A Chance Encounter
by ElvenPirate41
Summary: Wanda meets a creepy man in a bar who says that he just wants to talk to her...


**"A Chance Encounter"**

The figure which sat down in front of Ted was outfitted in tight jeans and a pink shirt, through which hints of breasts were beginning to show. Red hair grew just long enough to fall onto the person's shoulders.

"Evening, Alvin," Ted cheerfully greeted the regular. He suddenly grimaced at the reproachful look he received. "Sorry. _Wanda._ I keep forgetting. I'm still getting used to you being Wanda all the time."

"Don't worry about it, Teddy bear," Wanda quipped, leaning over the bar. "Everyone's getting used to it."

"Yeah? I don't feel so bad, then. The usual?"

"Please." Ted began fixing a cosmopolitan. "Yeah, at work it's _really_ weird. Some of the customers look at me funny. Especially the regulars, who knew me when I was having that whole identity crisis thing." The bartender was glad that he was facing the rows of bottles, and Wanda couldn't see him smiling at the term she used for her time spent as a man. "And sometimes they look at me funny," she continued, examining her lacquered nails. "Can't imagine why."

"It must be jealousy."

Wanda gave a very unladylike laugh as she accepted her drink. "I'm sure."

"So what—"

"Bartender?" he was interrupted. A customer down at the end of the bar was calling. "Can I get another beer, please?"

"Sure thing," said Ted, looking apologetically at Wanda and getting the man his drink. He thought the man looked vaguely seedy; his blond hair was greasy and he had a nervous sort of demeanor. But, he thought, it wasn't good for a bartender to be judgmental.

"What were you going to say?" Wanda asked as soon as Ted returned.

Ted had to think for a moment. "Oh. I was going to ask what you're going to do about work."

Wanda sipped at her drink. "I think I might quit. It's a shitty gig as is without people gocking at me. There's actually this really great little lingerie shop not far from my building. I know a guy who might be able to get me a job there."

"It'll pay better, you think?"

"I hope so. I could work more hours if it's not. I'm trying to save my money up. You know, for the surgery."

Ted's eyebrows rose. "So you're going to go through with it? I thought you said—"

"Yeah, I know. That I'm scared of surgery. I am. I've never liked doctors too much. They ask too many questions. But I think I want to do it. I just might."

A tiny cough came from the end of the bar.

"And," Wanda grinned, "if I do it, good old Mom and Dad will be forced to admit that I am, in fact, a woman."

Ted smiled with her, but he felt pity at the same time. He had known her for several years now, since when she was an effeminate kid barely old enough to drink. That was when she was a he who sometimes dressed like a she, trying to decide whether he ought to be a she permanently. He felt oddly protective of her, as he did of most of his female friends, though God knew she could take care of herself. And he felt badly for her in that her own parents pretended she didn't exist.

He was torn from his thoughts by a sudden motion in front of him: the customer from the end of the bar had seated himself next to Wanda.

"Hi," he said uncertainly to her. "D'you mind if I join you?"

"Suit yourself," said Wanda with relative indifference. "I'm just about to split, though. I've had my little indulgence for tonight. All that my poor wallet can handle, you know."

"I'll buy you another if you like," he quickly responded.

She eyed him for a moment. "Yeah, okay. Thanks."

"My pleasure. I'm Charlie."

"Wanda."

"Yeah, I heard."

Ted gave Wanda another drink and then busied himself in attending to his other customers, but he kept a watchful eye on his friend and her new companion.

"So... are you watching the game?" Charlie asked, gesturing at the TV in the corner.

"No. I hate sports."

"Ah."

"Though I've been told I play a mean game of foosball."

He didn't say anything, but studied her face as she finished the second drink. Ted glanced over and saw that he was staring straight into her eyes.

Wanda set the glass down. "I gotta go. But thanks for the drink." His gaze was still fixed upon her eyes.

"It's still early," he said. "D'you want to go somewhere?"

Ted didn't like the way this fellow was staring at Wanda – he couldn't put his finger on the reason, but Wanda seemed to feel the same.

"No, I don't think so. I got stuff do to." She rose to leave; the man grabbed her wrist, but let go when she yelped in surprise.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. Please? I'd just like to talk."

"Did I stutter?" Wanda fumed. "I said no."

"But—"

Ted was there in an instant. "The lady said no, buddy."

Charlie looked from Wanda to Ted. "Yes, of course," he said forcedly. "Good night, miss. It's been a pleasure meeting you."

"Right," Wanda returned. "See you, Ted."

"Have a good night."

------------------------------

Having moved from the bar to a dingy little table, the man who'd called himself Charlie frowned into another beer. He was disappointed; it was rare to chance upon people like Wanda, and even rarer that he'd actually be able to talk properly with them. He'd liked this one. Her brown eyes were maddening. It was a shame she'd been so adamant. He would have liked to have raised his count to nine before the convention next Friday. He couldn't even hang around the bar in the hopes that she'd come back sometime, since he had to leave tomorrow.

He sighed and pushed back his chair. The goddamn bartender watched him leave. He had an irate desire to kill the man, and perhaps he would have if he was not of such a choosy nature. He sighed again, jaded and self-pitying. It was hard being the Connoisseur.

* * *

I hope you liked this; the idea of the Connoisseur, who only kills pre-operative transsexuals, meeting Wanda has been on my mind for a while. Drop a review and let me know what you think! 


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